Time kept seeming to slip through Fiora's paws like so many droplets of water, and despite her growing anxiety to check on Elysium, to see if her Mother had yet returned, she forced herself to keep going. This journey, it couldn't be for nothing. She had to do something, had to help, had to improve the quality of life for all those in Mythris - not just her homelands. So onward she went, still more or less in the same direction her little sister. She paid closer attention now, perhaps, made more of an effort to be present for Mir after their last revealing, deep conversation.
She had... changed, but didn't seem bothered. Fiora decided to keep her mouth shut -- be it some wild experimentation or something more sinister, her sister was happy in her new skin, and it was undoubtedly Mir. They simply carried on as if nothing had changed, because, well... it hadn't, not in the ways that mattered.
She had learned to travel when the sun dipped low in the horizon and the heat didn't sap at her very strength; this evening found the sprightly Bacchus bouncing along inside the canyon where she could jump from rock to rock and vault off of surfaces otherwise, enjoying a burst of zoomies as she ran along, apparently unbothered and free. The sun was nearly set, she was fresh out of a nap, and her heart was soaring at this new, fun area they'd come across. Even with doom looming over their heads, the snowy witchdoctor would never fail to take a moment for easing the rough edges the world tried to carve in them. It was hot, and the breeze only just stirred across the sandstone walls of the canyon, but Fiora didn't care.
She ran, she jumped, she vaulted off slabs of rock that stood sideways, she lived.
But always, her scanning amethyst gaze sought for something... wrong, out of the ordinary, otherworldly, listening for the voice of the Visitor and hoping for the millionth time his words would finally whisper victory in her ear.


